The Boy, The Traitor and The Spy
by Nightlock Stained Lips
Summary: WW2 AU, AH. Jace Herondale is a spy and Clary Morgenstern is harboring a Jew. They are playing a dangerous game that one misstep could cost them their lives. Set in the heart of Nazi Germany during World War II. [Cameos by some TID characters later on]
1. Chapter 1

**_December, 1943. Berlin._**

_It's hypocrisy, all of it. _Clary couldn't help think bitterly. There was a war outside of their door and yet here she was, her father hosting a _dinner party_. Her father says it's essential in keeping his officer's morale up, it took all of Clary's self-control not to laugh at her father's face. Officials and suck-ups were only fattening themselves further as the rest of the populace was left to survive on meager rations.

"Smile. If you keep looking like you're in pain then you soon will be." A cool voice whispered in her ear.

Clary stretched her mouth into something that looked least like a grimace, "Jonathan." she greeted.

"Better. Now come, Herr Fuhrmann and his son are waiting to be introduced." her brother said as he took her by the crook of the elbow and led her though the crowd.

Clary pressed her teeth tighter together. It made her skin crawl as her brother and father continuously try to pawn her off as some Aryan brood mare. She found a little comfort in the fact that even her father's brainless lackeys are reluctant to marry someone who was half English. Unlike Jonathan, born and raised in the Fatherland and inherited their father's pale hair and dark eyes. Clary's connections were enough for her to be tolerated but not enough to keep her from being a social pariah. Her bright, red hair and Western ways made her stick out like a sore thumb, a constant reminder that she was not—and never will be—one of them.

She went through the motions without feeling. Smiling politely and shaking hands but the names and faces were all blurs. All the while, Jonathan was never a stone's throw away, making sure she kept up appearances.

They were all close. Too close. Suffocating her slowly, she had to get out of there.

"Fraulein Morgenstern, are you alright? You seem quite pale." Herr something or the other asked,

"Clarissa," Jonathan reappeared at her shoulder, brotherly concern oozing from him but the steely glint in his eyes said otherwise.

"I am sorry, I feel a little ill. I need some air." Clary could no longer take it as she pushed her way past startled guests towards the back door, leaving her brother apologizing in her wake. She would surely pay for that later but she didn't care.

Clary took huge gulps of the frigid Berlin night air, the harsh cold was a jolt to her senses. She stood in the alley where their back door emptied into, savoring the moment of silence and solitude until the clang of a metal garbage can spilling over at the end of the alley.

Her curiosity won over caution as she neared the source of the noise. Clary couldn't contain her gasp as she saw who it was.

It was a boy and he looked to be in his early twenties like her. His brown curls were matted and long, as if he hadn't cut or cleaned it in a while. He was too skinny, like his skin was stretched over his skeleton with hardly any meat in between. His clothing was ragged and filthy, one sleeve of his coat had a leftover piece of yellow cloth that must have been torn off. Clary zeroed in on his left leg, the pant leg was dark with blood, his bony hand over the top of his thigh in a futile attempt to staunch the bleeding.

Clary found his eyes unnerving, they were big, dark and no matter how defeated his body looked there was a fire in his eyes. He kept staring at her with the same defiance in his eyes.

"Are you going to scream?" he asked in a raspy voice.

Clary didn't know whether it was pity, mercy, her anger at her father and his cohorts or a mix of all of them.

"Come on, they'll come looking for me soon enough. The cellar window's unlocked I think, hurry."

The confusion was plain on the young man's face as Clary scooted down to his right side as to not get blood on herself. Clary was relieved it had not snowed yet and the alley floor was dark enough for the blood trail to be unnoticed.

They shuffled as fast as they could with the boy's injured and unusable leg, like a grim version of a three legged race. Her heart banged against her ribcage as they struggled towards the small window near the back door.

"Go, go!" she urged as she heard her brother call out her name from inside the house, looking for her.

The young man's foot no sooner slipped through the small cellar window when a beam of light came from the open door.

"Father's looking for you. You're in a lot of trouble running off like that." Jonathan barked at her. Clary hadn't realized how badly her hands were shaking as she crept closer to her brother.

"I'm coming,"

Her heart was still pumping, the boy, the blood and the flash of something yellow and torn on one of his sleeves. She still couldn't believe it, she just smuggled a Jew into the house of a high-ranking SS officer, her own father no less.


	2. Chapter 2

**[Thank you so much to those who reviewed, followed and favorited!]**

* * *

Clary had been right, her abrupt disappearance had earned her a sharp, stinging slap. But a slap would be the least of her problems once her father finds how a Jew managed to end up in their cellar.

The house was still and silent, the alcohol had induced a deeper than normal sleep in her brother and father. Clary was internally grateful for that as she crept through the halls in the dark, not bothering to get a light yet for fear of getting caught. Clary held her tongue as she groped the walls like a blind person, soon enough her vision adjusted to the dim surrounding.

A quick dash to the kitchen got her half a loaf of stale bread, a pitcher of water and a small first aid kit, things that no one would miss the next day. Clary cringed as the old cellar door gave a small squeak, every small noise seemed louder in the silence. She let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding once it seemed that no one was getting up.

The cellar smelled dank and musty, of air that was cooped up for a long time. The steps creaked with age and dust flew up into the air with each of Clary's steps. She was thankful their cellar had been deemed too shallow to be used as a proper air raid shelter. That thought dredged up the fearful reminder of what would happen should there be a raid, but she figured she'll cross that bridge when she gets there.

"Who's there?" the boy's voice called out, weak and raspy from disuse.

"Don't worry, it's just me."

Weak moonlight filtered through the dingy window bathed the boy in pale light. He slumped against the dark wall but his quick eyes stayed on Clary as she carefully approached him.

"Here, I… uh… brought some food." She held out the bread, he eyed it warily.

"Don't worry, I haven't poisoned it or anything," Clary assured him.

His hunger must have won over as he lunged for the bread and ravaged it with such speed as if he thought it would be taken away from him at any minute. In a small amount of time he had already polished off the half loaf and quickly turned to the water that Clary had also brought.

"Woah, you should slow down before you make yourself sick." She paused for a moment, "Hold on, I'll be right back."

Clary dashed back up the rickety stairs and eventually came back with some crackers, more water and a few old blankets. She let him finish the extra food before addressing the issue with his leg.

"You need to let me take a look at it. Do you want it to get infected?" Clary wheedled until the boy begrudgingly allowed her treat it.

The boy's clothes were practically falling apart as Clary snipped the pant leg open, peeling off the filthy pieces of cloth. Then cleaning the area as best she could with some of the water she saved before examining the wound. The bullet seemed to have passed right through the leg, it had not been fatal since it hadn't hit any major artery or bone but caused enough damage to make walking quite difficult and painful.

"How… how did you get this?"

The boy gave out a bark of laughter, "How do you think? I got it running away from those rabid Gestapo."

Clary tried the best she could to clean and patch it up, although the stitches were a little clumsy, they should hold well enough. In fairness, the boy held it together quite well even with the occasional wince and flinching.

"Here," Clary handed him the blankets,

"Thank you. I have no idea why you're doing this but… thank you."

A small smile crept on Clary's lips,

"You're welcome…?"

"Simon, my name's Simon."

"You're welcome, Simon. I'm Clary. Now, I should let you rest. I'll try to come back as soon as I can with food and in the meantime please stay quiet."

The boy gave her a small smile and made a zipping gesture over his lips.

* * *

Over the past few days Clary would sneak down to the cellar when her father and brother were out or asleep, because of the war they were down to one housekeeper who came around twice a week and they only hired more help when needed, hence Clary had a lot of free time on her hands. So far, no one has yet noticed anything unusual.

"Here," Clary came down one afternoon after her father and brother had left for their work. She was breathless from carrying a pail sloshing with water in one arm and a bundle in the other.

Setting down the water, she threw the bundle at him. "Some of my brother's old clothes, I know it might not be an exact fit but it's the closest I could get right now. And here," she took out a washcloth and set it by the pail "If you're feeling a little grimy."

"Thanks," Simon stood, inspecting the clothes. They were a simple, clean pair of a button up shirt and trousers, though they were clearly made for a taller, bulkier person.

Clary smiled, "I'll leave you to your washing up."

"Clary,"

She turned, that was the first time he actually called her by name.

"Thank you,"

"You're welcome,"

"No, I really mean it. We don't even know each other and you took this risk for me."

"Well, we could fix that."

"Fix what exactly?"

"Not knowing each other. I mean you kind of are living at my house," Clary gestured to their surroundings "I hope maybe we can even be friends."

"Friends," Simon said slowly, as if he were feeling the word out, "I think I'd like that."

Simon and Clary did get more comfortable with each other. Simon finally had someone to actually talk to while Clary had someone who wouldn't give her a nasty look when she said she didn't agree with the garbage the Third Reich was stuffing down people's throats. He got comfortable enough to confess that he used to live in America when he was very young until his father died. He also told of how he got separated from his family when they were on the run and he had a little brush with the Gestapo, hence the gunshot. Clary, in turn, told him of how her mother annulled her father and took her to New York. She told him sadly how her mother got ill, she had to stay with her father and got stuck after the war erupted.

"I haven't been able to send a letter or anything, I don't even know if my mother's alive."

"I know the feeling," he said sadly.

* * *

The cellar lit up with mellow yellow light from the afternoon as the two people in the room laughed.

"You didn't!" Clary shrieked, hand flying up to her mouth to stifle her laughter,

"I did! I was what? Six? I honestly asked my neighbor if she ate her baby and that's why her stomach was huge."

The two dissolved in laughter as Simon regaled Clary with his animated storytelling.

"I can't believe you actual—" Clary was cut off when the front bell sounded. The both of them froze.

Clary quickly left to answer the door, ready to tell off whoever it was to come back later. Her words ready as she yanked the door open,

"I'm sorry but you'll have to come ba—"

Her words died as she realized who was standing on her front step.

He was a good length taller than she, broad shouldered and with handsome features. He seemed to be a year or two older than she was. He was all gold, leonine and beautiful. He would have been utterly breathtaking if it wasn't for the SS uniform and the arrogant smirk on his face.

"Can I help you?" Clary snapped,

"Fraulein Morgenstern, I take it?"

He seemed to be too young to be hanging around her father, he must be here for Jonathan then.

"My brother's not home."

"Ah, well, I apologize for disturbing you."

Clary gave a brisk nod and her eyes flitted briefly to his uniform, distaste coloring her expression for a split second. She stretched her mouth into a smile and was about to say goodbye,

"Has my uniform offended you?"

_Damn._ He caught her look. Her father and her brother had soured the idea of a man in uniform for her, especially that of an SS.

"No—no! I just, uh, I, uh… was remembering something that… I… forgot." Her cheeks started to heat up to her dismay.

That smirk of his widened into a full on smile, a smile of a man who was used to women getting flustered over his looks. Clary wanted to slap it off his face, _arrogant jerk!_

"Is there anything else?" Clary tried to keep her face straight,

"Could you tell Jonathan that Jace Wayland stopped by?"

Clary nodded, wanting to get this awkward situation over with.

"Oh, and nice meeting you, Fraulein Morgenstern."


	3. Chapter 3

"Clarissa! Hurry up and remember to dress nicely, we've got a guest." Jonathan rapped sharply on her door once more.

Clary huffed but bit back her response. She hadn't bothered dressing up too nicely, she couldn't care less about impressing some stuffy SS officer at their table. Instead, deciding on a modest cream dress with the Morgenstern ring as her only adornment.

Clary played with the silver ring dangling on a thin silver chain over her chest as she thought of Simon downstairs. She couldn't help but have some anxiety in facing her father and brother, worried she may let something slip by accident.

"Clarissa, would you stop fidgeting," her father snapped, "Stay here with your brother and greet our guest while I go make a last minute check with the kitchen."

Rolling her eyes at her father's retreating back, she found her father so suffocating, always having to instruct her with everything as if she were still a child.

"Here he is," Jonathan called out. Clary hadn't bothered to turn around when she froze.

"Good evening, sir. Thank you for inviting me," she recognized that voice.

_Oh please no_ she prayed, she couldn't face him after she embarrassed herself in front of him.

"Clarissa," Jonathan called her, "I'd like you to meet—"

"Fraulein Morgenstern," Jace greeted her jovially. He was still as she remembered him, complete with that same insufferably arrogant smile.

"You've met?" Jonathan asked, surprised.

"Oh yes, I was coming to visit you but you weren't here so I was fortunate enough to meet your lovely sister at the door."

"Alright then," Jonathan shrugged before turning towards the dining area.

Clary felt Jace fall into step beside her, lowering his voice

"I wore my uniform again, I hope it doesn't bother you this time." It riled her to hear the amusement in his voice,

"Look. I'll be direct. I was just distracted, I had a lot of things on my mind at the time."

"That's completely understandable, you're not the first to be distracted by my looks."

Clary couldn't help but snort, _this guy needed to get over himself_. She could hardly stand men who think too highly of themselves.

"Your looks wasn't what distracted me. It was your giant ego blocking out the sun for a moment." She couldn't help but feel triumphant as she left him, dumbfounded, to go to her seat.

"Ah, Herr Wayland, I've been hearing good things about you." Her father greeted Jace, extending his hand,

Jace took the hand in a brief shake, "Thank you sir, I'm grateful for the invitation."

The quartet sat themselves at the table, hardly taking up space for the furniture meant to host twelve, a remnant of the extravagance of the past. Clary pressed her lips together as Jace took the seat opposite hers, right of her brother and left of her father at the head of the table. Jace caught her eye for a moment and sent a wink her way. Clary tried to smother the scowl forming on her face, eyes narrowing at Jace.

"Is there something wrong?" her brother asked, his dark, keen eyes catching the change in her expression.

"Ah, I just thought I saw something but it was nothing." She hadn't even finished her sentence when her brother's attention had already passed from her.

"So, how are you finding Berlin?" Valentine asked, facing Jace.

"Quite well, sir. Everything and everyone have been very," Jace's momentarily flicked to Clary, "hospitable."

"You should have seen it in its glory," Clary's father mused, a faraway look in his eyes for a moment.

"I'm sure it was beautiful. It's a shame I wasn't able to see it. My mother wanted to keep me close, especially after my father passed."

Clary preoccupied herself with her soup, spooning often in her mouth to keep from having to participate in the conversation. The mention of a mother triggered a pang of sadness inside of Clary. _Her mother wanted her close too_, she thought sadly. Her spoon dawdled in the bowl, she found that she wasn't so hungry after all. She zoned out of the conversation as they started into the topic of politics and the ilk. Her attention drifted in and out until something snagged her interest.

"Have you found a young woman that suits your interest yet?" the elder male Morgenstern asked,

Clary had to give it to him, if Jace was taken aback by her father's bluntness he didn't show it.

"Well, I honestly think it's still a little early to tell. I'd rather wait and focus on more important things right now."

Jonathan smiled and shook his head, "That's almost like what my sister said,"

"It is not!" Clary cried indignantly,

"Oh yes, the both of you seem to have this notion of waiting or in your case, dear sister, being picky and calling it waiting. If you keep that up, you might end up an old maid."

Clary shot her brother a dirty look, pent-up anger bubbling up before she could control it, "I'd rather be an old maid than turn into some brood mare—"

"Clarissa!" her father cried out sharply.

"You'll have to forgive her," Jonathan turned to Jace "My sister has quite the temper. She spent too much time with our mother out West and picked up all these radical ideas."

"I'll say," Jace said softly, regarding her with cool indifference. Though, she wasn't sure but she thought she had seen one corner of his mouth twitch as if he was holding back a smile.

Her father's icy look of barely concealed anger kept Clary quiet for the rest of the night.

* * *

Simon's eyes followed the short, fiery haired girl as she paced back and forth spewing out her feelings. His sight honed in on the remnants of a partially healed cut on the corner of her mouth. Simon remembered what could cause something like that. He remembered his sister with a similar wound after a Gestapo pig sent her sprawling to the ground bleeding after a hard hit from his meaty hand bedecked with a gleaming silver ring he probably took from some other Jew.

"Who gave you that?"

Clary stopped mid-sentence, confused for a moment before realizing to what he was referring to. "What makes you so sure it's a who?"

Simon gave her a look as if to say _Really, were going to do that._

"It's for being an embarrassment to the name Morgenstern," She exhaled noisily, picking at a loose thread on the cuff of her shirt "It doesn't matter, I never wanted to be a Morgenstern anyway. I was even going by Fairchild back home."

"Fairchild?"

"My mother's maiden name," a hint of longing seeping into her voice that Simon noticed whenever the subject of Clary's mother came up.

"How—how do you," Clary ventured timidly until Simon gestured for her to keep going, "not forget?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean how do you not forget your family. Like how they sound, how they look like."

"I find it helps to tell stories," Simon watched Clary as a wrinkle appeared between her brows as she digested the information. "So, tell me about your mom and family. Angel knows I've been entertaining you with my embarrassing childhood."

Clary grinned widely at Simon, "Well… I was actually raised in New York but during some summers we'd visit my aunt Charlotte in London."

"Good, what else? What did your aunt look like?"

Clary perked up, setting herself comfortably in front of Simon as she launched into a description of her aunt and childhood. She looked happy rambling on about her fondest memories, Simon watched her with a fascination and another feeling he's not quite sure how to describe yet. Whether it was an infatuation or what, he did not know.

* * *

Clary stood in the corner of the ornate, spacious parlor room. Her hatred for her father's dinner parties held nothing of the soirees some of the other prominent members of Berlin society, still trying to show off even in the midst of a war. The walls featured somber portraits of those long dead alongside the Fuhrer's. Their eyes seemed to be following her, scrutinizing her every movement. The paintings weren't the only eyes on her. She was often a subject of covert glances and murmurs behind cupped hands from the other ladies in the room. Clary has long since ignored them but there was still a little sting in her chest as they all would either avoid her entirely or eye her like she was something dirty on the bottom of their shoes. She tried had to look casually disinterested as a lump formed in her throat when another round of tittering giggles came up at her expense from the nearby audience of women.

"You look like you could use a drink," Clary was mildly startled, she hadn't heard him approach at all, eying Jace as he stood next to her.

"You probably shouldn't stand too close to me. You might catch my un-Nazi-ness or whatever it is they seem to keep saying about me."

Jace said nothing as the corners of his mouth lifted into a smile at her. Before Clary knew it Jace had slipped his hand in hers and was pulling her in the direction of one of the private balconies. The women and some men nearby burst into whispers as the two made their way past.

"Wha—"

"It was stifling in there, don't you think." Jace said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a pack of cigarettes.

"No, seriously, you don't know what kind of talk'll happen. They already saw us going here together. You can probably salvage your reputation if you go in now."

"And here I thought you disliked me all this time Fraulein," he smirked at her, Clary only rolled her eyes in response. "You looked like you'd rather eat glass than keep standing there."

"Was it that obvious?"

"A bit, yeah."

"Damn. Well, not all of us can be social butterflies."

"What makes you think I'm a social butterfly anyway?" Clary gave him a deadpan look, "Ok, fine."

"Gee, thanks my knight in shining armor."

"Just call me Sir Jace Wayland." he said as made a mocking half-bow.

Clary turned away from him, resisting the urge to roll her eyes again. The garden below was really just a raggedy patch of lawn with a few clumps of bare trees all covered in a thin layer of frost. The tops of the trees weren't tall enough to hide the shards of broken buildings of Berlin jutting up from the distance. The moon seemed unnaturally big and bright, everything was eerily still. An involuntary shiver went down Clary's spine.

"You cold?" Jace asked,

"No, but I will take one of those," Clary said as she plucked the cigarette from Jace's slender fingers.

Jace's eyebrows raised as he looked on in amusement and took out another cigarette for himself.

"What?" Clary snapped defensively,

"Nothing, I just thought—"

"That I'd be like those women in there," Clary motioned indoors "A _proper_ Aryan lady who doesn't smoke and whose goal is to pop out as much pureblooded babies to fuel Hitler's army."

"You don't sugarcoat anything, do you?"

"Nope." Clary shook her head, popping the p. Jace gave a low, throaty chuckle.

"Where did you pick up smoking anyhow and don't tell me Jonathan taught you."

"I got curious," Clary said sheepishly, "I found some of Jonathan's and gave it a try." The same cocky smile that irritated Clary now reappeared on his face.

"Stop that,"

"Stop what?"

"Smiling like that!"

"What's wrong with my smile?" Jace arched a brow,

"It's so… _arrogant_."

"What's wrong with acknowledging your positive points?"

Clary simply shook her head in response, crushing the remnants of her cigarette underneath her heel. "Nobody's perfect."

"But you can get close," Jace said nearing her. Clary had to look up to look him in the eye, from their closer proximity she could see the tangle of dark lashes and smell his cologne, something light and pleasant, not at all what she expected.

"I—ehm"

She took a step back and mentally berated herself for freezing up at the first attractive male that gets a little close. She was stronger than that, not some lovesick fool who falls for the first charmer who comes her way, no matter how attractive.

"Herr Wayl—"

Both of them turned as a curvy blonde thing opened the balcony door, stopping at the sight of Clary and wrinkling her nose at the smell of cigarettes. Clary froze, hoping the smell hadn't clung to her. Jace gave a lengthy exhale, giving the blonde a once-over.

"Yes?"

"I was—uhm, looking for you," she gave Clary a disgusted look as she skirted around her to go directly in front of Jace. "You should really be inside, with _better_ company."

"Thank you but no, I'm quite fine out here."

A frown stained the girl's features as she looked at Clary, "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I am. I'm quite enjoying my current company." The girl gave Clary a last dirty look before disappearing inside to no doubt spread news.

Clary faced Jace with her brows raised in question, speaking before she could say anything else "Now, what were we talking about? Oh yes, my flaws. Hmmm… the only thing I can think of is that I can't stand ducks."

"Ducks?" a smile was on Clary's lips at the thought of someone like Jace running away from something as harmless as ducks.

"Bloodthirsty little demons." He said venomously, face twisting into a scowl for a split second at a memory of some heinous crime ducks had apparently inflicted on him.

Clary couldn't help but laugh, it was infectious enough that Jace was soon laughing too, the chilly Berlin wind carrying the sounds of laughter over the silent city.


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you so much for all the support, guys. I don't own anything but the plot.**

**Just to clarify, Clary and Simon would be around 22. Jace is 23, making him 18 when the war started.**

* * *

Jace turned his coat collar up, shielding his face from both the bracing wind and unfriendly eyes. Just because he was out of his usual SS uniform doesn't mean people won't recognize him, better safe than sorry. Everything was gray and cold, the streets littered with rubble and rubbish alike. Many shops that lined the streets were boarded up and those that were open hardly had anything left to sell. The city felt emaciated, skeletal, gutted out of its old glory. Jace wove his way through the somber Berlin crowd, keeping his head down, sharply breaking off into a dark, skinny alley. A serious, handsome young man stood at the mouth of the alley.

"Alec," Jace's face split into a grin as he and the other young man walked deeper into the alley before going into a brief embrace.

Alec motioned towards the other end of the alley. Both boys turned, Jace throwing a cautionary glance behind him before following suit. The alley emptied into a small backstreet, the both of them winding their way through a series of alleys and backstreets until they reached a large, squat building tucked behind a mixture of blackened ruins and drab tenements filled to the brim with struggling Berliners. The upper half of the building was blown open by a past bomb, rotting wood and darkened peeling wallpaper on display to deter most prying eyes. A small door painted black on the bottom corner of the building hardly stood out. It would have passed the eyes of anyone who wasn't looking for it. The two stood in front of the door, Alec giving a sharp pattern of raps until a slat of wood from the door slid away.

"Ourobouros," Alec whispered, the sounds of a bolt sliding away followed. The door creaked open revealing a darkened hall.

Jace and Alec went inside, music growing louder and louder as they neared a small staircase at the very back. Sounds of laughter and music floated up as they descended. The lights were dimmed, giving it a mysterious, relaxed aura. A jazz band played lively music on a small platform in one corner, across was a magnificent bar, shiny bottles of liquor beckoning the patrons. The boys seated themselves into one of the tall bar stools.

"And to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" the bartender slash proprietor came over their way. His vibrant lemon yellow and royal blue ensemble popping against the surrounding, cat colored eyes traveled from Jace and then to Alec.

"I've missed you Magnus!" Jace cried, Magnus snorted in reply before leaving and coming back with their usual drinks.

"Don't think that those are free. You've been getting lots of freebies from me as it is."

"Magnus!" Jace clutched his chest in mock hurt, "And here I thought we were friends!"

Magnus rolled his eyes but a smile remained on his face. Alec cleared his throat loudly, face serious. Magnus turned his attention to the other boy with his grin growing wider.

"We need documents." Jace cut in before Magnus could say anything to Alec.

"For who, or knowing you, what?"

"Isabelle. Nothing too fancy." Magnus arched an eyebrow in question but didn't press them. He knew just how dangerous what they were asking of him.

"All right, I should have them done in a couple days. Come back then." Then again, he knew how dangerous being himself really is in the Third Reich.

* * *

She was pretty, oh _so very pretty_. Seemingly too pretty to be cooking and cleaning as a maid, but that wasn't really any of Clary's business. Isabelle was what Jonathan had said, she looked about the same age as Clary too. No doubt her being easy on the eyes helped with her brother's choice of hiring her. If Clary had the gall to hire a live-in maid like her brother did her father would only have shouted at her for being so frivolous. Her brother ended up dumping the responsibility of showing the new maid—which they didn't even need—around on her. Clary couldn't help but feeling self-conscious whenever she caught sight of the other girl.

After a half-hearted tour of the house, minus the cellar, they ended up at the kitchen. It was just about the time for lunch, thinking that it would be best to assess just how skilled Isabelle was Clary decided on letting her do the meal.

_Goodness gracious_ Clary stepped back from the clamor Isabelle made, throwing who knows what around the kitchen. A sour, burned smell soon filled the air and Clary ended up having to push a few windows open. Isabelle ended up serving her a thick brown slop of _something_ in a bowl that smelt of something bitter and burned.

"Uh," Clary stared at the meal apprehensively, "What did you make, exactly?"

"Chicken soup." Isabelle said, her tone saying as if it were obvious.

"How do I put this," Clary started, stirring the lumps in the soup, "Don't take this the wrong way but I think maybe you should just focus on other household chores instead."

Isabelle frowned for a moment but ended up smoothing her features over and seemed to be fine after. Clary couldn't bring herself to eat the soup, she even wondered what Simon would say

_Simon!_

Clary's heart seized for a moment. With Isabelle now in the house it was more likely for her secret to be discovered. How could she trust her? Would she run to her brother and father the moment she finds out? Cold dread settled inside of her.

"Are you ill?" Isabelle's voice snapped her back to the present.

"No, no, I decided I wasn't very hungry after all."

* * *

The dining room was quiet save for the tinkling sounds of silverware against porcelain. Dinners at the Morgenstern household weren't exactly an exciting event, especially when it was only the three of them. After Isabelle's disastrous attempt at lunch, Clary decided maybe she ought to just do the cleaning and other things in the house instead.

The monotony of dinner was only broken when Jonathan stood, "I'll go and check on dessert."

Her father shrugged and went back to his meal, uncaring at the odd fact that Jonathan had never showed any interest in food preparations before. Clary, however, did notice and ended up excusing herself under the pretense of some forgotten instruction about the food.

Isabelle's knuckles were white as she gripped the side of the kitchen table. Her body was taut and rigid, her face an expressionless mask save for the tightly clenched jaw. Jonathan was too close to her, his hand dangerously placed at Isabelle's lower back in the pretense of some comforting touch.

"Jonathan. Why don't you go back to the dining room and leave kitchen duties to the women?"

Jonathan gave her a menacing glare but then smoothed over his expression, forcing his words through a tight lipped smile "I just thought I should complement Isabelle here on her great work."

"Great, now _go_." Clary smiled, eyeing Jonathan as he left. She turned her attention back to Isabelle, who was visibly relieved. "Are you alright?"

"I've had worse, but thank you anyway."

"Alright, uh… I'm sorry for the interruption." Clary gave a small smile, from the anger in her brother's eyes earlier, this situation is far from over.

* * *

Even if she had only been in the household for a while, to say that Isabelle had managed to complicate Clary's usual routine of visiting Simon was an understatement. She always seemed to be breathing down Clary's back, or that's what it felt like. Clary resorted to once again sneaking down in the dark of the night to see Simon. She felt like a burglar in her own home.

All seemed well until she reached the first floor. A thin line of light spilled on the floor, the cellar door was opened very slightly. Clary tensed, she was sure she'd closed it the last time. Ill thoughts crept up of Jonathan or Valentine coming downstairs in the dead of night and somehow managing to find out about Simon. Clary quickened her pace but slowed down as soon as she hit the tops of the stairs. Soft laughter drifted up to her, one she could pick up as Simon's but it was mixed with a softer, more feminine one. It wasn't so much as confusion but fear and surprise was what Clary felt as she saw who was down in the cellar. The apples she had brought for Simon fell on the floor in a series of soft thuds.

"Clary!" Simon cried as Isabelle whipped around to see her, dark eyes wide at being caught off-guard.

"I won't tell, if that's what you're thinking." Isabelle broke the stunned silence.

Clary looked at her warily, she knew nothing about this girl, how was she to trust her?

"I know you have no reason to trust me but please, I won't tell. I promise."

Clary knelt down to collect the fallen apples and even as she rose she still had her gaze on the ground, not bothering to look at either Simon or Isabelle in the eye. She didn't have choice but to take Isabelle's word. Clary looked at the both of them, waiting on her reaction.

"Besides," Isabelle continued seriously, "I owe you, especially after your brother…"

"I—uh. It's late, I just came by to give you this." Clary shoved the apples into Simon's arms and left quickly before either could stop her.

* * *

Clary gave a frustrated huff as she gave up the tug-of-war she was doing with her hair, it simply refused to cooperate. She still couldn't get her mind over last night. There was something else other than fear at Isabelle's discovery of her secret. She felt oddly… disapproving. Clary shook her head, she had no reason to feel like that, Simon was just a friend. But she couldn't help it, girls like Isabelle would only chew up and spit out guys like Simon.

Giving up, she placed her brush down on her dressing table and stared back at her freckled reflection. Faint, purplish shadows underneath her eyes were starting to show, evidence from her late night escapades. A soft knock came from her door,

"Come in," she called, stifling a yawn as Isabelle came in balancing a tray of tea.

There was a pregnant pause between them as Isabelle handed her a cup of tea. Neither girl knowing how to address what happened last night. Failing to come up with any words, Isabelle picked up the brush and started to work on Clary's curls. The brushing was soothing, very much reminding Clary of how her mother used to brush her hair just like that.

Isabelle set the brush down and put her face next to Clary's "There, all better."

Clary beamed, Isabelle had managed to tame down the wild nest on her head into something that actually resembled human hair.

"You're secret's safe with me." Isabelle said ever so softly.

"Thank you."


	5. Chapter 5

To Clary, Jace was becoming a very persistent, very present shadow looming over her shoulder. He always seemed to be at their house, functions and whatever else. Granted, his company wasn't that bad, she can honestly say she's been with worse. But he did have that annoying habit of turning up where she happened to be.

"Daydreaming about me?" Jace's cocky voice announced his entrance to the kitchen, making his way towards her and sitting on the chair across from her as casually as if he owned the house.

An almost involuntary eye roll was sent his way, "Aren't you supposed to be with my brother?"

"Jonathan needed to get some papers in your father's office or something or the other."

Jace's eyes swept the whole kitchen before speaking up again, "Where's your new maid?"

"Huh? Isabelle?"

"Yeah,"

"What about her?"

"Nothing, just making conversation."

Clary repressed an eye roll, figures he'd want to see the pretty girl. Speaking of said pretty girl, Clary wasn't entirely sure where Isabelle had disappeared to. There was a pregnant pause between them, unable to think of anything else to do she took a large gulp of scalding tea before remembering she was waiting for her drink to cool. She spat the drink back into her cup in an effort to save her burning mouth.

"Shit!" Clary cursed as tears pooled at the corners of her eyes.

"Don't laugh! It's not funny!" Jace was beside himself with laughter, earning murderous glares from the redhead.

"Oh you should have—" Jace wheezed, "—seen your face!"

Clary sent him one last dirty look before standing to put her cup away, her whole mouth stung and felt inflamed. _Stupid Jace, it's all his fault that I forgot it was hot_.

Out of the corner of her eyes she saw he was still grinning, she was suddenly feeling the need to throw something at his pretty little face just to wipe it off. But the grin vanished a second later when the light, tinkling sound of something breaking floated up from the cellar door beside the kitchen.

"Did you hear that?" Jace turned towards the cellar's direction.

"Heard what?" Clary tensed, moving ahead of Jace as the boy started to rise to investigate.

"I swear I heard something breaking down there." Jace was slowly making his way towards the cellar door, adamant that he had heard something.

"That's just probably nothing," Clary tried to stand in front of him only for her to gently push her aside. "The wind from the cellar window must've probably been left open and something fell."

Jace kept going no matter how much Clary tried to get in front of him and under no circumstance could she let him find out about Simon. Out of options and on the verge of desperation, Clary put herself in front of Jace and grabbed the front of his clothes tightly. _The things I do for friends_. She screwed her eyes shut and tugged Jace's lips onto hers. The latter was caught unaware by the sudden movement and was in no position for a kiss. Jace's teeth rammed on to Clary's lips on impact, she pushed the sensation of pain out of her mind. Her grip on his clothes relaxed as the both of them leaned into the kiss, going at one another with unusual ferocity. He snaked an arm around her waist, drawing her closer and up towards him. Jace broke the kiss not a moment too soon as Clary felt like her knees were about to give way soon. They were both flushed and more than a little bewildered.

"You could at least buy me dinner first." Jace's voice was husky and for a moment Clary was tempted to kiss him again.

"Clary?" her brother's voice jolted them as Clary took a step back from Jace, who looked quite horrified at Jonathan's arrival.

"What's going on, you both look a little off." Jonathan squinted at Clary's direction, "Is that blood on your lip?"

Her eyes widened as her hands flew to her lips, a smudge of red liquid stained her fingertips. It must have been a result of the unfortunate occurrence when she caught Jace and his teeth unawares.

"I-I must have bit it by accident." She stole a sidelong glance at Jace who looked calm, composed and silent for once.

"Hm, sure you're alright Clare?"

"Yes, I accidentally bit it. You know how clumsy I get." Clary gave a weak laugh, Jonathan didn't seem to buy her story but he let it go, seeming to be in a good mood seeing the use of pet names.

Jonathan turned his attention now to Jace, "Cat got your tongue?"

"No, I was just wondering how someone could possibly be so clumsy." He flashed Jonathan his usual bright grin.

Jonathan eyed the pair once more, "Let's go, if you're done."

Clary watched the both of them leave, her heart beating so loudly it feels as if all of Berlin could hear it. She dodged perhaps more than one bullet. Putting her hand up against her lips, she could almost remember the way his lips felt against hers. It was quite tragic, she had to lose her first kiss in what could quite be the most unromantic way possible. She sighed, _the things I do for friends_.

Jace let Jonathan prattle on while trying to look like he was still paying attention. Jace hadn't known where the kiss came from but he most certainly didn't regret it. She tasted sweet, the slightest bit of honey from her drink. He knew he shouldn't fraternize with the enemy, or the enemy's family, really but he can't help himself. Besides, if Isabelle could be believed Clary was really on their side.

* * *

"You're what?"

"I'm taking you out, I already asked permission from your father. I figured you owe me since you didn't even bother to explain what happened the other day."

"I don't have to explain myself to anyone, least of all you." Heat rose, coloring her cheeks.

"And I'm sure my father only agreed as I've managed to drive every other man away. Then again, there's still time for you." Clary rolled her eyes at the young man on her doorstep. "Besides isn't it unwise for a young, unmarried girl like myself suddenly just go off to who knows where with young men like you?"

"I promise to be the perfect gentleman." Jace put on a look Clary supposed was innocence. "Besides, it'll be in public so your reputation will remain, for the most part, intact."

Clary weighed her options, she hated being stuck in the house for so long. She shook her head, "Wait, let me go get ready. Don't make me regret this."

"Wait! _Wait_!" Clary called out, her arm feeling as if it was to be yanked out of the socket soon. Jace had swapped his coat for a nondescript dark wool one as he dragged her through parts of Berlin that she just knew her father would sneer at.

"I thought we were going somewhere public." She demanded, Jace looked nonplussed.

"This is public, now come on."

She lost track of exactly what twists and turns Jace led her through, eventually stopping at a black door underneath a ruined building, another glaring reminder of the war raging around them. Jace whispered something to the slit on the door before it swung open. Clary hesitated at the dark hallway, heart hammering, she took Jace's proffered hand and plunged in.

It was everything and nothing Clary expected all at once. The scent of alcohol hung in the air alongside the smooth jazz and soft murmur of the patrons.

"Welcome to the Pandemonium Club." Jace whispered, his lips brushed her ear, Clary tensed at the contact.

He gently took her hand and guided her to an empty table. Butterflies flip-flopped in her stomach as Jace pulled out her seat for her. Questions bubbled up inside her, waiting to be spilled.

"Before you say anything, from this you can probably figure out that there's more to me than what I show you." Jace explained carefully. "Now, I'm technically not allowed to say what I really do outright to any civilians but if you figure it out on your own, then I'm in the clear."

"So… you don't really work for the Reich, do you?" Jace's mouth twitched at her reponse, as if holding back a sarcastic response. "Do you work for those who go against them then?"

He only nodded in reply before she asked, "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because," he smiled at her, "I figured I can trust you."

"What makes you think I can be trusted?"

"If the Jew in your cellar is any indication."

Clary's eyes widened in shock, "Don't worry, your secret's safe with me." Jace said quickly.

"How did you…"

"I've got eyes and ears in places you wouldn't think. And I'm thinking we can come to an agreement."

"If you think, you—you can just blackmail me!" Clary cried indignantly,

"Not blackmail," Jace said with patience, "A deal. You someone to get your little friend out, he can't really hide out in your cellar forever now can he?"

Clary narrowed her eyes "In exchange for what? I'm sure this little act of kindness doesn't come for free."

Jace smiled wolfishly, "Information."

Clary crossed her arms, pondering at the offer. She'd only known him for a couple months at best, how can she be so sure this wasn't just some ruse to get her to trust him, only to betray her in the end. Clary's feelings must have been apparent on her face.

"This is exactly why I brought you here. Maybe a little illegal outing would prove that I really am on your side. This city's a hard place when you've got few to trust, any addition to that number would be welcome."

"Oh," Clary's brows scrunched together, "So, this was just some cover?"

"What? No." Jace let out a soft breath, "Honestly, I _do _like you. I know I'm not supposed to and all that. Also we haven't really known each other for so long but…"

Jace stopped as Clary reached out and took his hand across the table, her expression softening. "I know what it's like to always have to look over your shoulder. I'll help you on the condition that when the time comes, you'll help me and Simon too… and you'll take me out on a real date."

"Simon, so that's his name. Hey, this _is_ a date."

"No, it's not and you know it." Clary tried to frown at him but his smile was too infectious.

"Who's this?" a voice purred as a man took the empty seat at their table. Everything about him was loud and vibrant to Clary's eyes, from the lime green outfit to his peculiar eyes.

"Magnus Bane," he held out a hand, "owner and proprietor of this lovely establishment."

"Clary Fairchild." She shook his hand, she wouldn't willingly call herself her father's last name if she could help it.

"I know,"

Clary couldn't help but look puzzled, "Pardon?"

"I met your mother before the war, you look just like her and nothing of your father, thank goodness." His eyes slipped to Jace for a moment before coming back to Clary,

"Tessa, Jace's cousin's wife—well she wasn't his wife back then, but I'm straying, anyway she used to live in New York and introduced me to your mother's art. I was quite taken by it, by the way. Marvelous things came from your mother's hands." Magnus babbled, a Cheshire cat grin on his face.

"Clary and I," Jace interrupted, "were have a _private_ moment before you so rudely barged in."

Magnus raised a brow at him, "Need I remind you whose club you're in?"

Jace huffed like a petulant child, grudgingly silenced. Magnus then swiveled his attention back to Clary, "Now, where was I?"

* * *

The sun was starting to dip low, red-gold rays staining the sky in hues of pinks, reds and purples by the time Jace had brought Clary home. Jace's heart hadn't stopped beating so loudly since the club, even without the consumption of alcohol Jace felt drunk. He held Clary's soft, delicate hands underneath the table as Magnus rattled on and on. Sure, he'd have preferred a more private setting without Magnus but Jace liked any and all times he spent with Clary.

"Wait."

Surprise popped up on Jace's face, "What?"

"You knew about Simon."

"Yes…"

Clary smacked him on the arm, "You already knew about Simon! And you let me make a fool out of myself kissing you!"

"Hey!" Jace raised his hands in protest, "_You_ were the one that kissed _me_ remember."

Clary let out a cry of frustration as she smacked him again, harder this time. Laughter bubbled up his lips as he pulled her closer. Their kiss was softer, slower this time, it felt like the minutes stretched out between them. Light pink colored Clary's cheeks as they broke the kiss. His eyes flickered momentarily towards the front windows, he thought he had seen movement in the curtains but was too preoccupied by the girl in front of him to really confirm.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he murmured, giving her one last, soft kiss before watching her go in. The Morgensterns will surely be the death of him, he just knows it.

* * *

**[Don't own anything but the plot, sorry if it's a little ooc]**


	6. Chapter 6

**I apologize for taking so long to update. I've had my hands full with university and had to drop a few things to keep myself on track. I am hoping now to finally get back to writing. Better late than never, I hope.**

* * *

The door had barely shut when Jonathan's hand grabbed Clary's arm. A steely, displeased look was painted on his face.

"Ouch, Jonathan, let go! You're hurting me." Clary cried, "What did I even do?"

"What did you do? _What did you do_? Our father did not raise you to be a harlot." Jonathan snarled.

"Harlot?" anger bloomed in Clary's chest, "I did no such thing!"

"Then what was _that_ outside, hmm?" Her brother gripped her arm tighter, enough that she was sure that it would bruise.

"Nothing! I swear!" Jonathan's hand fell away from her arm, but the scathing look remained on his face. Clary rubbed her arm, looking away from her brother's venomous expression. "Besides, I thought you two were friends. Aren't you finally happy I found someone?"

"We may be friends but I don't trust him, at least not completely. There's something off, I just can't put my finger on it just yet. But trust me, I _will_ find out."

"If you'll excuse me," Clary ran past her brother, not looking back until she was in the safety of her room. Jace needed to be warned, as much as she'd hate to admit it, her brother was very clever and dangerous. It would be disastrous if Jonathan ever found out, she needed to get Simon out now that her brother was sniffing around. Her brother wasn't like to leave things alone, the clock was ticking against them.

* * *

"I can't do it right away, you're going to have to give me time." Jace murmured against her ear. He had taken up on her wish and taken her out once again. This time, it was more formal and definitely no skulking about in underground illegal clubs. "And I want tonight to be special, _just us._"

Clary could tell he really meant it. Jace had pulled out all the stops, even so much as picking her up in a vehicle. Jace refused to tell her where they were headed, claiming that it was a surprise. The ride itself had not taken too long, passing through the cool evening of Berlin before stopping in front of a small, quaint restaurant. Light poured from the windows portraying a simple yet elegantly furnished inside. '_Alicante_' the name proclaimed in elegant script, Clary had never heard of this place before but she trusted Jace's judgement.

"I know this is not the posh places you must know, but I figured you'd want something more private. And I can testify that their chocolate cake is to die for." Jace told her as the pair entered. Warmth washed over Clary as they entered the brightly lit place. She noted the restaurant seemed to have a recurring theme of glass in their décor with the crystal-like centerpieces reflecting the blue hued light emitted from odd shaped things in the sconces. Clary couldn't help but be a little self-conscious in such an elegant space. She had dressed simply, a pale ivory frock with hardly any accessories or cosmetics on her. Jace was out of his uniform for the night, he was dressed in a simple but classic style suit. Then again, he could have worn a potato sack and still looked good.

Clary couldn't deny Jace of his good taste as everything was indeed delicious and the cake was practically heavenly. All the great food and atmosphere, however, still couldn't quite dislodge that cold feeling in her chest as Jonathan's words kept coming back to her.

"So," Jace asked, "Father or brother?"

"Excuse me?"

"You look like someone just told you that that will be the last piece of cake you'll ever have in your life."

Clary considered lying but Jace's soft expression changed her mind. "Brother."

"I see. But you don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"I…" Clary gave a tired sigh, "He wasn't always like that you know. Our father, I don't know what he did to him."

She didn't know if it was years of keeping all this emotion down but she found herself talking and unable to stop.

"We used to be really close when we were younger, Jonathan and I." A small, sad smile was on her lips. "He was my protector and my best friend. He would always try and shield me whenever father got angry. My parent's divorce was very…. messy. My mother was made to choose only one child to take, she left my brother thinking he was the stronger one and that he was more able to withstand my father. He was only seven."

Clary took a shaky breath and continued, "My mother tried to hide it from me but I could see how much it pained her to see the letters she sends my brother come back unopened. I managed to convince her to let me visit after all these years only to get trapped here when the war broke out. One thing led to another and here we are."

Jace let out a low whistle, "And I thought my family drama was heavy."

"By the Angel, it feels good to tell someone, to get that off my chest."

"Well, if there are other things I can take off your chest, an item of clothing perhaps?" Clary sent him a look, blush rising on her face. The heavy spell on their table had been broken.

* * *

Clary was still on a high from her night with Jace, a smile played on her lips as she ate a late breakfast in the kitchen.

"You seem to be in a good mood," Jonathan stepped into the kitchen, a calm expression on his face. Clary sat up straight, smile gone.

Jonathan smiled, "No need to be so rigid, sister." Clary eased a little but not entirely, today seemed to be one of her brother's rare good days but his mood shifted as easily as the weather.

"Can I help you?"

"Yes, actually." He walked slowly and silently until he was right next to her, his voice dropped low. "I've noticed the maid sneaking off into the cellar the night before last."

Clary forced her voice to stay calm and nonchalant, "I told her to go clean it."

"At night?"

"She took a long time with her other chores." Clary's heart hammered inside her so hard she felt that if they stopped talking the thudding of it would be heard.

Her brother backed off, his expression shifted to a pleasant one as he put his arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head before leaving. Clary wasn't fooled by the picture of brotherly love, he was on to them and it was only a matter of time before he discovered the truth.

Clary had risked her brother's watchful eyes to reconvene in the cellar with Isabelle and Simon that same night. The feeling of unease and nerves permeated the cramped cellar. Jonathan never made idle threats, he would find Simon or any of them out sooner rather than later if he was left unchecked. Nobody needed to say it but their lives were all in danger. Everything now had to be moved faster and pushed forward.

"This is the perfect opportunity." Clary explained, "My father is being called out for business in Munich for a week and he's leaving tomorrow."

"What about Jonathan?" Isabelle asked.

"He'll still be here but we can try and slip something in his dinner to knock him out."

A look of concentration was on Simon's face before he spoke out, "How long will it keep him out?"

"I don't know how high my brother's tolerance is for drugs but time is not on our side."

"I don't like it. There's too much risks and Simon's leg has mostly healed but I'm still not sure how well he can run or walk with it." Isabelle said, "But it's not as if we've got much choice."

"True." Simon agreed, "We may not have another chance for a while and with your brother sniffing around…"

"So that's the plan then?" Clary looked around their threesome for agreement.

"I'll talk to my brother and Jace. They can help us out with the transport and everything. Tomorrow, were getting Simon out of here."


	7. Chapter 7

The spoon felt smaller than she remembered, the dishes not quite so elegant. The dining room that she once thought was so grand as a child now looked dark and empty. Their father had left not an hour ago for his trip to Munich. She and her brother now sat across on their dining table, silence stretching the distance between them even further. She was quite sure that if her brother looked up from his meal he'd read their plan written all over her face. Jonathan was an expert liar, and definitely more than capable in spotting one.

"Clary." Her breath caught "Stop playing with your food, you're not a child."

Clary couldn't trust herself to speak so she simply nodded and spooned some of the thin broth into her mouth. Forcing herself to eat even though her nerves knotted her stomach and threatened to send back up anything she ate. Jonathan leaned back, his eyes scrutinizing his sister for a moment before speaking.

"You're jumpy."

"I just- I'm feeling a little under the weather I suppose, I must've eaten something."

Jonathan gave her a last look and went back to his meal. Clary felt herself grip her cutlery a little tighter as Isabelle entered with a decanter full of dark wine. Wine that contained a cocktail of who knows what, all designed to send her brother in a deep slumber. Slow acting, of course, she wanted her brother to go to bed and never realize anything happened the next morning. Isabelle poured the wine in her brother's cup before setting the decanter down and leaving. Exchanging a tense last look with Clary as she disappeared behind the kitchen doors. Time seemed to slow for Clary as Jonathan reached for the glass and drank deeply. There was absolutely no turning back now.

"Here, let me get you another." Clary smiled, picking up the decanter and refilling her brother's cup.

"Hmmm…. Alright, what do you want?" Jonathan asked, full attention now at Clary.

"What makes you say that?"

"You're acting odd, nervous and friendly. Nothing like your usual self. It can only be that you want something from me?"

"Actually, yes." Clary's brain wracked itself to come up with something plausible. "I was hoping to get some money for shopping. My dresses are all outdated. Didn't father say that we are are reflections of the family?"

"I suppose," Jonathan said slowly, "Go to father's study tomorrow and I'll give you some."

Clary smiled despite the butterflies hammering in her stomach as Jonathan took another sip of his drink. Soon he will retire for the night and hopefully wouldn't move until morning.

* * *

There was a still, eerie silence that hung all around the house. Clary barely dared to breathe, she half expected her brother's door to be thrown wide open and expose them all or her father to burst in through the front door claiming to be back so soon. But for all her fears, she thanked the Angel neither happened. Slowly but surely, she stuck to the walls, letting it guide her through the dark as she went down the stairs. She was about to turn for the kitchen when a small glow caught her attention. It was a lamp, burning low left unattended on her father's desk. The door to the study itself was left ajar although no one was there. Clary's brows furrowed for a moment. Jonathan would go to their father's study to look over a few documents occasionally, perhaps he just forgot about the lamp?

Clary couldn't dawdle, her brother didn't seem to be in the study so she took it as a sigh to press forward. She managed to catch up with Isabelle and Simon in the cellar as they took a last minute once over before leaving. The sense of urgency propelled them as the trio made their way up from the cellar. Everything seemed to be fine until Isabelle froze at the sight of the open study door.

"What?" Clary whispered frantically,

"Your brother went in there after dinner and didn't come out, I assumed he must've passed out in there. He only finished half of the decanter so I wasn't sure how long he woul-"

"AAAAH!"

The cry had come from Simon, Jonathan must've moved around and had seen them emerge from the cellar. Jonathan then went for Simon, the former grabbing the latter and was attempting to put him in a chokehold. Jonathan's movements were slower and more dulled than they usually are, an evidence of the drug in his system.

With a battle cry Isabelle threw himself at him, Jonathan letting go of Simon to deal with Isabelle's oncoming attack. Simon fell to the floor, gasping as Isabelle and Jonathan tripped over him in their struggle. For a moment Clary thought Isabelle would triumph but even inebriated, Jonathan's skill and extra mass came in handy as he gave Isabelle a particularly vicious backhand. Clary felt as if she were trapped in a nightmare and there was only one thing she could do.

"Jonathan!"

His dark eyes, seething with hatred locked on to hers as slowly got up. Instinct took over as Clary turned heel and ran, hoping to draw him away from her friends just until help arrived. Her breath was coming quick and short as she ran into a dead end in their living room. She didn't have time to think of another solution as Jonathan's weight crashed behind her sending the two of them sprawling on the floor. She screamed as Jonathan's hand dug into her hair and yanked, Clary squirmed and attempted to lash out only to be pinned by her brother's knees on her back. Very quickly, he shifted her on her back to face him. He looked positively rabid, his usually brushed hair now an unkempt mess. His mouth twisted into a feral grin and his eyes- his eyes looked so dark that there was no telling the pupil and iris apart. Clary couldn't move and opened her mouth to cry for help.

"Go ahead. Cry out. They won't be able to save you. No one can. I called father back the moment I started feeling the effects of whatever you drugged me with."

"P-please Jonathan,"

"DON'T!" he roared, Clary shut her eyes and squirmed, turning her head away. "You-you have no right. You and _that bitch_ have no right!"

She could practically feel the anger rolling off of him. "After the two of you abandoned me. _Abandoned me to him_."

"Do you remember the day you left?" Clary dared a look back. His voice dropped to a soft, hushed one. "I ran after the car that had you and mother, as fast as I could, crying as I watched it get smaller and smaller until it was gone."

Clary hadn't even noticed her tears until Jonathan lifted a hand and brushed one away with surprising gentleness.

"That was the day I realized," Quick as a striking snake, his hand went from her cheek to neck. He started to squeeze the air from her throat, "No matter how someone says they _love_ you, they will still leave you."

Dark spots flowered in Clary's vision, '_This is it. This is the end_.' She thought.

There was a resounding crash of something hard meeting flesh and then suddenly air was in her lungs again. Jonathan now fell over her, a grateful sight greeted her as she pushed her brother's limp body off of her. Jace stood over the pair with the remnants of a decorative vase in one hand, the other outstretched to help her up.

"Come on, we haven't got much time."

* * *

Clary hadn't even dried her tears as Jace took her outside two idling cars. Isabelle and Simon were already inside one, as was a dark haired man at the driver's seat. Jace quickly ushered her into the other one, promising to explain when they were inside. They took off almost as soon as Clary shut her door.

"How-" Clary began to ask,

"I was supposed to see off your father at the train station when Jonathan's call came in."

"I'm sorry for blowing your cover."

"Don't worry, you didn't, that was on me."

"I don't understand."

Jace motioned at something in the backseat for her to see. Clary let out a noise of surprise as she recognized it to be her father's briefcase. She knew it held some important things as he would've never parted with it willingly. "A certain someone might've knocked out, tied up and left on the side of the road a certain Nazi officer and his two escorts that he volunteered to bring back from the station after the said officer received a call from his son about his daughter trying to escape. Then that certain someone then making off with his briefcase and car."

Clary was at a loss for words, the reality of what just happened crashing over her. She didn't know just how long they've been driving. The darkness of the night made it hard to tell exactly where they were, but the slight increase in trees alongside the road indicated they were probably out of the city.

"Where are we going exactly?"

"A little pit stop, we have to switch cars and meet up with some people."

"And then what?"

"We head home."

Not much time passed when Jace made a right and pulled into a clearing lit only by the moon overhead. Isabelle and Simon's car had arrived before they did, its passengers were outside talking with two other figures. There was also another vehicle with a horse trailer attached to it. All of them turned as Jace pulled up.

Clary was glad to see Isabelle and Simon, a reddish patch on the side of Isabelle's face signaled the start of a bruise. Both of them look a little shaken but otherwise seemed fine. From the resemblance, Clary could guess their driver is related to Isabelle. His face gave a look of relief as he saw Jace but his expression soured as his eyes settled on Clary.

"Ah, there he is. Did you get lost?" one of the two other men called out as Jace and Clary came closer. He was dark haired and terribly handsome, and from his grin it seemed that he knew it too. "It's terribly rude not to introduce your guest, Jacey."

Clary's brows raised at the mention of 'Jacey'. "This is Will, my cousin," Jace spoke in a less than enthusiastic voice, "Will, this is Clary Morgenstern."

"Morgenstern?" The other stranger beside Will piped up. He was much taller, fair haired, his sharp features showing his alarm.

"I go by Fairchild." Clary said, "I grew up with my mother in New York. I came to visit my father for the first time and years, he kept me trapped here when the war broke out. Just because he's my father doesn't mean I am anything like him."

"I'll vouch for her." Isabelle spoke up,

"So will I." Jace added.

The blonde man looked pacified while the man Clary assumed was related to Isabelle still held a look of distrust towards her.

"Fairchild? Are by any chance related to Charlotte Fairchild?" Will asked,

"Yes, she's my mother's younger sister."

"There we go," Will regarded the situation with a look of cool amusement, "Well, as pleasant as this is, we've got to move. They're most likely already on our trail and we have a long ride ahead."

"Hold on." Jace ran back to the car and returned with a briefcase. "Almost forgot our lovely Brigadeführer's briefcase."

"Oh Jacey, I could kiss you!"

"Please don't, I'd rather have someone else kiss me." Clary didn't miss Jace's eyes glanced towards her as the words left his mouth.

"As intriguing as that is, I'll have to interrogate you about that later as we really do have to go. I know it may get a little cramped, but on to the trailer please everyone."

* * *

**I hope you guys enjoy. I will be having my finals soon so I might take a while to update again. Also you might ask "Where's Jem? He and Will are always together in stuff like this" well, I have an explanation for that and it is coming along eventually.**


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